A Compilation to Be Smuggled by Tourists into North Korea

by Steve Fitch

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1.
03:10
2.
03:22
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
03:51
11.
12.
13.
03:20
14.
15.
06:22
16.

about

All selections previously released – on these albums:
"Defensible Space" (1, 13)
"Whatever Happens" (2, 8)
"Forsaken . . ." (3, 9)
"Frequencies of Use" (4, 5, 11)
"Auto-Save My Life" (6, 10)
"My Dream of Your Dream of My Dream of You" (7)
"Here" (12, 14)
"The Life" (15)
"White People . . ." (16)

Those albums and others can be downloaded here:
spaces.trychec.com/9666

Hit Me: mymusicbymemusic.com

credits

released March 26, 2016

All Muisic, lyrics and Recordings © 2014–2016 Steve Fitch
Publishing:
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Compilation © 2016 Steve Fitch
Cover image courtesy of NASA.

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Steve Fitch

All the recordings here have been produced since 2009. Downloads are via trychec.com links.

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Track Name: BBQ
flesh charred
in petrochemical fire
flesh charred
in petrochemical fire
flesh charred
in petrochemical fire
flesh charred
in petrochemical fire

you eat
can’t beat
taste treat
barbebarebebarbecued meat

with knife
and fork
no spoon
barebarbebarbecued pork

beyond
belief
this taste
barebarbebarbecued beef

must call
first dibs
to get
barebarbebarbecued ribs

© 2016 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: The Only Secret 1
I know those people
as they hope you never will;
what they keep alive
and what they choose to kill.

I’m no longer there
to play the tragic stand-in
nor what role the
audience was demandin’.

I walked off the play.
It had to be that way.

The only secret which
cannot be kept
is bigger than the carpet
under which it’s swept.

All has been revealed
with motives naked,
with the truth so candid
it had to be fak-ed,

‘cause lies are all they say.
They have to be that way.

One synapse between
complicit and conspiracy;
witnesses who don’t hold
their tongues will not go free.

They’ve lived so long
that way that they can’t ‘fess-up
when someone might object
to how they mess-up,

‘cause they have to have their way,
no matter what you say.

© 2016 Steve Fitch
Track Name: The Right to Be Forgotten
“Hey, don’t I know you?”

What is it this time?
Another expression like I shouldn’t exist
while it’s enough to pretend I don’t
just let me know that you’re still pissed
while I don’t want to recall
any of you at all

But I gottatellya
you weren’t a team that I could win with
I wouldn’t choose a side to lose
It wasn’t my idea, to begin with
and I never wanted to play
with you that way

Most you badass boys
and certainly all you bad-news women
get away with pissing in the
love-pool where you’re swimmin’
until you find that you’re in
a pool filled with urine

I deserve revulsion
for having been so rotten
but I reserve the right
to be forgotten

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Just Rehearsal
I got my bags, I got my badge;
I got all the cred that i can cadge –
never mind that Mercury’s in retrograde:
it will add some spin to how this played.
This is just rehearsal
for the Big Reversal.

I’m comin’ back from bein’ gone;
you think i got it goin’ on –
this is on my part no deception,
this is just a glitch in your perception.
This is just rehearsal
for the Big Reversal.

Look at me and look relieved –
this has to be seen to be believed –
so glorious to behold, and yet
registering as some kind of threat.
This is just rehearsal
for the Big Reversal.

Any prize, if you can win it,
can be taken from you any minute;
far less likely is the bestowing
of privilege that karma’s long been owing.
This is just rehearsal
for the Big Reversal.

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Everybody's Gone
Everybody's gone –
moved-out, moved-up, or moved-on –
my life was just a place to play
before they continued on their way.

There are old-timers
and assiduous-but-stunted climbers
and those who drink 'cause they're sad
and those who just want me to feel bad.

They still come and go,
sometimes become folks I'll know,
and some I'll wish I never knew –
I wish they were among the few.

Everybody moved,
or disappeared as they'd improved.
With so many now behind me,
I wait for those who've yet to find me.

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: She Gets Remix
She gets to go
I have to stay
I have to work
She gets to play

I’m always wrong
and she is right
I hate the struggle
She loves the fight

She has the means
I haven’t much
She has her world
I haven’t such

I have nothing
She has it all
She opens doors
I hit the wall

© 2016 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Follow You Home
authoritarian wimp
delusional wigger
go slignin’ your dick
but mine is much bigger

i’ll follow you home
follow you home
follow you home
follow you home

cowardly bitch
self-righteous cunt
i don’t want to fight
but i love to hunt

i’ll follow you home
follow you home
follow you home
follow you home

passive-aggression
may now be in style
but ultraviolence
has it beat by a mile

i’ll follow you home
follow you home
follow you home
follow you home

watch where you’re going
watch what you say
or you might not live
to watch the next day

i’ll follow you home
follow you home
follow you home
follow you home

© 2016 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Realies
Ah, the wonder, when you find that you'd been lied-to –
the fence around the truth, you couldn't scale it if you tried to –
the marvel of the engineering of events and archetypes
displayed like tearin' up the floors
and starin' at the pipes.
Someday, you'll realize the real lies.

Remember when you'd said what you thought, and you'd meant it?
Someone you don't know had been hired to invent it,
and through the tube into your brain they had fed it;
the righteousness makes you feel worthy of the credit.
Eventually, you'll realize the real lies.

Beliefs and sense of history, in one gesture, are all fractured
when the curtain's cracked on where they're manufactured.
When you're certain that what you'd always known is wrong,
you'll be left with claiming that you'd known it all along.
Don't it hurt to realize the real lies?

© 2015 Steve FItch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: I No Longer Exist
So cute, and legs for days –
I couldn’t understand her ways,
but some things should go without explaining.
Someone I might want to know,
though I did not not want to go
into the zone between instinct and training.

She has what men can’t resist,
and they might get if they persist,
but her vagina says I no longer exist.

When I saw her with her man,
I could tell she had a plan
to dump him soon and hook-up with a new one,
by some arcane courtship rite
or by getting drunk one night
and take her pick of men and just do one.

I was at the top of her list,
but opportunities were missed;
now her vagina says I no longer exist.

She has what men can’t resist,
but if they do, then she gets pissed,
so her vagina says I no longer exist.

From the spoils of her game,
she’s content with Whatsisname
and no longer playing man-roulette.
Now I pass her on the street;
she won’t allow our eyes to meet,
remembering I’m someone to forget.

I’d not known that I had dissed
a velvet glove on an iron fist.
Her vagina says I no longer exist.

She has what men can’t resist,
but if they do, then she gets pissed,
so her vagina says I no longer exist.

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Living Legend
There’s a gulf between the written word
and the truth, which by fewer will be heard.
The strength with which they believe it
depends on they means by which they receive it:
they don’t know what they see unless they’re told.
The Living Legend’s ramen’s getting cold.

Out with old and in with new, through the heart
of this culture circulating art –
the murderer’s music gets attention,
while another’s barely gets a mention
because it doesn’t run above the fold.
The Living Legend’s ramen’s getting cold.

Give ‘em something, and they won’t try it,
but they’ll talk it up if they’d been made buy it.
Artists cannot hope to make a dime;
entertainers get paid just for their time –
its worth is just the price for which it’s sold.
The Living Legend’s ramen’s getting cold.

It’s futility itself, to be unique:
no similarities to show it’s what they seek.
Something is worth being so desired
if one can boast that one’s also acquired
that for which they’d auctioned-off the mold.
The Living Legend’s ramen’s getting cold.

I’d heard about him when I was 20,
and nothing since, but stories then were plenty –
some weird genius, deranged, and so on,
with but one picture for historians to go on,
though by now, he’s unrecognizably old.
The Living Legend’s ramen’s getting cold.

Well, if you'll excuse me, now . . .

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: The Walled Garden
No seasons here, just subtle shifts
from day to day, as clouds may want to drift;
one day secretes the next, a week will smear-
out by the month, ’til it’s a year.
Arriving early, one learns to wait
such that one can’t tell it’s getting late.

If I were to leave the walled garden,
would my bones disintegrate, my features harden?

Our visitors don’t mind paying
for the privilege of regressive grown-up playing:
events occuring with a theme
turn their experience into a dream.
The spell of timelessness is cast –
forget how long forever really lasts.

If I were to leave the walled garden,
would my bones disintegrate, my features harden?

What they did at first, they’re doing still,
perpetually as they were, as they will.
Do differently, one won’t even try it,
because all the others would deny it
to negate things that exceed
the constraints that their lives have come to need.

If I were to leave the walled garden,
I’d feel no remorse, and grant no pardon.

© 2015 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)
Track Name: Demolition
When the first tower came down
we were already gone
but it meant that we were
never to return

The last was pulled five years later
The error of the era
had been effaced, with too much
of a lesson to learn

In that time, the man I'd known
as the man to look up to
reduced to rubble in
gradual self-demolition

and in his place was erected
some facade that masked, but
betrayed, a psychotic
desperate contrition

It was done
Thirty-three plus one
Thousands of displaced negroes
plus his son

© 2013 Steve Fitch
My Music by Me Music (BMI)